The Game of the Century
by mojoco
Summary: Vaughn left the CIA in disgrace. Sydney made him an offer he couldn't refuse. Irina has a couple of new employees who've always liked to make their own rules. It's a dangerous game. The only question is, who's playing who?
1. The Rules

Title: The Game of the Century

Author: mojoco

Rating: R

Timeline: Post ATY/ AU

Summary: Vaughn left the CIA in disgrace. Sydney made him an offer he couldn't refuse. Irina Derevko has a couple of new employees who've always liked to make their own rules. It's a dangerous game. The only question is, who's playing who?

Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, they belong to JJ Abrams and Bad Robot Productions.

Distribution: Cover Me; any other, please let me know.

Author's note: Please review, I love to get feedback!

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Chapter One: The Rules

The woman paused at the doorway, grimacing at the sound of the moans she heard coming from the other side. Lovely. She hoped they weren't too far along, but then again, if they were, they'd at least have the decency to cover themselves and act embarrassed. If they were still clothed, he probably wouldn't even bother to roll off of her.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to find you like this," she called as she opened the door. Her little warning. Of course they hadn't locked the door. It was one of her rules. No locked doors unless she commanded it.

The man and the woman on the other side of the door were still dressed, him draped across her on the couch, and though his lips froze at her neck when the woman entered the room, as predicted, he didn't hurry away from the woman beneath him like a startled teenager. Instead, he rolled off of her rather lazily, gathering her onto his lap before so much as sparing a glance on the new woman in the room.

"Hello, Mother," the woman on his lap said, though she, too, barely bothered to glance up from the man she rested on. Her mother could hardly say she blamed her. The man was certainly a sight to behold. She supposed that before he'd met her daughter, he'd been a straight arrow, a play-by-the-rules kind of guy, with all sorts of deluded notions of honor and country. It was amazing how the promise of true love and a little sex could turn a man around. It really made her wonder if he'd had a darker side before, or if they'd made him the way he was. She and her daughter.

Her daughter had certainly had a darker side. She'd been far easier to convert than her mother had ever expected. Of course, she'd been a regular pain in the ass at first. Until Irina had thought to ask her what she'd wanted more than anything in the world.

Sydney had thought she'd evaded the question. "Vaughn-- do you know where he is?" she'd asked in response. "Is he okay?"

And Irina had smiled. So that was her daughter's weakness. The exquisite Agent Michael Vaughn. Irina had been watching the two of them closely for awhile now, and she'd seen the way her daughter had leaned on that man, the way Agent Vaughn had seemed willing to do virtually anything for her daughter. But she'd seen more. Potential. She'd seen the way Agent Vaughn had reacted when he'd learned who had fired the bullet that had killed his father. Or rather, the way he _hadn't_ reacted. He'd been so concerned with making sure his precious Sydney was all right. Always the strong one. Always her shoulder to cry on.

Well, Irina knew probably better than anyone that there was no such thing as _always._ Nothing lasted forever. Someday, something would happen to make Agent Vaughn crack-- no, shatter. Her daughter had already cracked him. Irina just hadn't expected his undoing to come sooner rather than later.

"I don't know where your Agent Vaughn is," Irina had told her daughter calmly that day in Taipei. "Listen, darling. I'm going to let you go for now." 

"Go?" Confusion had clouded Sydney's dark eyes. Eyes so like her mother's.

"Oh, we'll be meeting again," Irina had assured her. "And think about my offer, Sydney. I meant it, and I can provide it. Anything you want."

After that, things had gone like clockwork, and the best part was, Irina had had deliciously little to do with it. Agent Vaughn had not died in that liquid-filled hallway in Taipei, but for awhile, he must have wished he had. Asked to leave the CIA. Disgraced. Where did a man go when everything he'd worked for in life had been taken from him?

Where did a woman go, when the man who'd been helping her achieve everything she'd so desperately wanted had been torn from her side?

Well, there was one person many women would run to in such a situation, and Sydney Bristow had been no exception.

She'd called her mother.


	2. You Want to Play, Don't You?

****

Chapter Two: You Want to Play, Don't You?

He'd been surprised the day she'd knocked on his door. In his muddled, beer-soaked mind, he'd wondered how she'd known where he lived, and whether it was safe for her to be there. Actually, he'd been more concerned that she was seeing him in a dirty white t-shirt and gray sweatpants, three days growth of beard on his face. Even as out of it as he'd been when she'd shown up, he'd wished he could have asked her to come back in an hour, after he'd showered and changed.

He'd been out of the CIA for five days. Been drunk for four and a half.

"What are you doing here?" he blurted as soon as he'd let her through the door. Briefly, he closed his eyes and imagined all the times he'd pictured her standing there. Actually, there hadn't been many. Even in his fantasies, he'd always imagined their relationship would be the sort that would consist of clandestine meetings at the warehouse and seedy motel rooms.

"I came to see how you were," she said, her face an odd mixture of horror and pity.

"I'm not well, Sydney." God, he must have looked pathetic. "Is it even okay for you to be here?"

"Vaughn--"

"Hell, why wouldn't it be?" he answered his own question, running a hand back through his greasy hair. "It's not like we work together anymore. It's not like we're breaking any rules."

"Vaughn--"

"What if SD-6 found you here?" he interrupted. "They probably wouldn't care, either. Actually, they might like the idea of you hanging out with a bitter ex CIA agent. They might even want to recruit me."

He caught an odd flash in her eyes then, a flash of-- something. He couldn't quite recognize it, but it made his stomach lurch. It was almost as if she thought him joining SD-6 wouldn't be such a bad idea, or at least such a ridiculous one.

Then the flash was gone, and she shook her head. "You wouldn't want to join SD-6."

"Why not, Syd?" He must have looked like a crazy person-- unshaven, dirty, wild eyes. "It would be great. You and me, taking them down from the inside. Who needs the CIA?"

She smiled, a pitying smile that made him want to throw up. He'd never wanted to inspire her pity. "You don't, Vaughn. You don't need them."

"Oh, come on, Syd." He staggered to the couch, collapsing onto it, cradling his head in his hands. "I'm past thirty. I've never thought of doing anything else. And I threw it all away because I'm in love with you."

He'd never said the words out loud before. They didn't seem to surprise her. "You have to listen to me, Michael."

He looked up at her, startled. She'd never called him by his first name.

"Michael," she continued. She sat next to him on the couch, wrapping an arm around him. He must have repulsed her. His apartment must have repulsed her. His coffee table had completely disappeared under a blanket of empty beer bottles. "Did you ever think that you joined the CIA for the wrong reasons?"

"What do you mean?" Wrong reasons? He'd never thought of doing anything else.

"We both did," she soothed. He closed his eyes as she rubbed her hand over his back. "You joined to avenge your father's death. I joined to avenge Danny's."

He froze under her touch. No no no, that hadn't been why. Had that been why?

Her voice was satiny soft against his ear. "What if I told you there was a way you could do exactly that-- that we could do exactly that?" She was whispering now, rubbing his shoulders with skilled hands. God, her hands felt good. "That we could get back at the people who took so much from us. Without the CIA, Michael."

The wheels began turning in his brain, alcohol soaked though it was. "You're talking about your mother," he realized.

"Yes." Still the hands on his shoulders, working him, molding him. "And Sloane. But Michael, darling--"

Darling? She'd never called him darling. Never seemed the sort to call anyone darling.

"There's a catch," he whispered.

And her hands stopped, and she stood, suddenly looking very nervous about what she would say next. "We'd have to work for my mother."

He flew to his feet as quickly as if the couch had caught fire. "_What_?"

"Pretend to work for her," she said quickly. "Take her down from the inside. Like you said we could do with SD-6, Michael."

"I wasn't serious, Sydney!" Oh, God, he was reeling. Spinning. He was going to be sick.

"You need to be calm, Michael."

He looked at her, surprised. Where her voice had once been soft, it was now sharp. Cold, even.

Then just as quickly, it was soft again. Silky. Seductive. "You need to be calm," she said, taking his shoulders and guiding him back down to the couch. She sat next to him, an arm around him again. "You need to be calm, and listen to what I'm telling you."

He ran a hand back through his hair. Damn, he needed a shower. He must have been repulsive to her. "What you're telling me seems so absurd."

"Absurd?" Her voice was soft, but her tone was challenging. "Two weeks ago, if someone had told you that you would be asked to leave the CIA, wouldn't that have seemed absurd?"

He felt a lump rise to his throat, and he willed himself not to cry. Not in front of her. 

"Think about it, Michael. You gave them the better part of your adult life, and they threw you out because-- what? You broke rules to help me out? You were too emotionally attached to me? They put my life in your hands over and over, and they expected you not to get too emotionally attached to me?"

It did sound absurd, when she put it like that.

"They broke you, Michael," she whispered in his ear. "Shattered you. And so did I."

His eyes widened. "Oh, no, Sydney, you--"

"I did, Michael." She rose from the couch, tears springing to her eyes.

"Please don't cry, Sydney, I can't stand it when you cry."

She turned to him, eyes so full of pain it nearly broke his heart. "See?" she demanded. "You're at the lowest I've ever seen you, Michael, and still you only care about me, about wiping away my tears. I did this to you, Michael."

"No, you didn't, Sydney." He stood, wanting to put his arms around her but fearing she'd shrug them off. "You never asked me to fall in love with you."

"Yes, I did." Her tears were flowing freely now, and it took everything in him not to wipe them away. Kiss them away. "Every time I called you just because I needed someone to talk to, every time I brought you closer to me than you ever should have been."

"Shh, Sydney, come here." He pulled her to him then, and she didn't resist. Didn't resist as he held her, cradled her. Didn't resist as he began kissing away her tears, finally letting his lips fall on hers, giving her the kiss he'd wanted to give her for so long.

And she looked up at him, eyes full of wonder, and something else, something he couldn't quite identify. Love? She hadn't said she loved him yet. _I threw it all away because I'm in love with you…You never asked me to fall in love with you_. He guessed he hadn't properly said it, either. Maybe now wasn't the time.

"I broke you, Michael," she whispered, throwing her arms around his neck. "But I promise, I will help you get everything you have ever wanted, everything you hoped to get when you joined the CIA. You just have to trust me. Okay?"

He didn't answer, only kissed her again. But in that moment he knew that he would do anything she asked, just as he always had. Mostly, because he loved her.

And partly because he believed she was capable of helping him get the revenge he'd wanted for so long.


	3. Her Mother's Daughter

****

Chapter Three: Make Your Move

Irina had been a little skeptical when Sydney had shown up at her LA headquarters with the news that Michael Vaughn was in.

"It only took you one meeting to convince him?" Irina asked unbelievingly.

"I can be quite persuasive, Mother."

Irina raised her eyebrows at the satisfaction in her daughter's voice. Well, well. She'd been a little afraid that her daughter didn't have the stomach for the kind of work she was in for, but well, if she could take such pleasure in manipulating the man she claimed to love… "I'm sure you can be," she said, regarding her daughter from across the mahogany desk. "But Sydney, I killed the man's father."

Sydney looked away as she dropped into the leather chair facing her mother. Ah, Irina thought. So maybe the girl did have a heart, after all. A definite liability in their kind of business. "You should have seen him, Mother," Sydney said, her voice soft. "I've never seen him like that before. I don't think he'd showered since the CIA let him go, he'd been drinking--" she shook her head as if the image had been too much for her. "I-- I played on that a little," she confessed. "All the guilt, all the sadness he felt-- I played on that. Made him angry, instead. _You gave the CIA most of your adult life and blah blah blah_."

"That's good." Really, Irina was impressed. She'd underestimated her daughter in more ways than one, to be sure.

"That's what finally convinced him." Sydney looked absolutely sick with herself. Irina would have faulted her for it, but she supposed she could allow the girl one weakness. Michael Vaughn could be that weakness. "I told him-- I said, _It wasn't personal when she killed your father, Michael. Do you understand that? He died because he was CIA_."

Irina raised her eyebrows. Yes, her daughter was very good, indeed.

"After that, I think I did him some good." Irina had to smile. So concerned with her lover's well being, even after she'd completely played with his emotions. It was touching, really. "I got him in the shower, got him to shave. He didn't have any food in the house, so I went shopping, made him dinner, some coffee. Cleaned his place up. I stayed the night, and it was the best--"

"Sex?" Irina interjected, arching one eyebrow.

Sydney shot her a dirty look. "Well, that was good, too," she said dryly. "But I was going to say, the best night's sleep I've had in a long time."

Irina rose from her chair, circling the desk to stand behind her daughter, massaging the girl's shoulders. "Because your double life is almost over, darling."

Sydney looked up, offering her a wan half smile. "Listen, I have to go."

Irina squeezed her shoulder. "Back to your lover?"

"No." Irina found the expression on Sydney's face strange-- puzzled, almost. "I have a meeting with Sloane."

Almost without knowing it, Irina's grip tightened on her daughter's shoulders. "Surely you don't intend to stay with SD-6 now."

Sydney looked up at her, smiling another of those odd half-smiles. "You don't need someone working on the inside there?"

Irina frowned. "No. I need you to be available to work for me at all times, not just when you get a break from doing Arvin Sloane's bidding."

"Of course," Sydney said quickly. "I just--"

"And your father-- God, Sydney, do you think I need you seeing that man on a daily basis?"

"Of course not," Sydney said, looking down. "I wasn't thinking, Mother. I'm sorry."

Irina gave her daughter's shoulders one last squeeze before releasing her from her grip. "Good girl," she said crisply. "But Sydney, I need you to stay on your toes, I can't have any more lapses in judgment like that."

"I understand, Mother." Sydney spun the chair around to face her, and Irina wasn't sure she liked the look in her eyes. Pleading. Weak. "You're sure you can keep me safe from Arvin Sloane?"

Irina snorted. Surely this girl didn't underestimate her that much. "Please. By this time tomorrow, we'll be halfway around the world. He'll never find you. As long as you do as I say, of course."

Sydney nodded, and Irina smiled as some of the steely resolve returned to her daughter's eyes. There. That was her girl.

"Mom," Sydney said, sounding strangely hesitant.

Irina raised one eyebrow. "Yes, darling."

Sydney took a deep breath before speaking. "Part of the reason I wanted to stay on at SD-6--"

"Out of the question," Irina snapped. God, hadn't this girl any brains at all?

"No, I know," Sydney said hastily. "I just-- I really want to bring SD-6 down, Mom." Her eyes filled with an anger so cold it startled Irina a little. "I want Sloane to suffer for all he's done to me."

Irina stared at her for a long moment. Well. It seemed she had underestimated her daughter again.

If such hatred existed in her heart, there was no telling what she was capable of. 


	4. Spy Games

****

Chapter Four: Spy Games

Sydney took a deep breath as she closed the door to her mother's office, horrified to realize that she was shaking. Had her mother noticed? Had her mother been able to sense her nervousness, smell the fear she was wearing like a cheap perfume?

She was going to be sick. She was literally going to be sick. "_I'm sorry, Mother. It won't happen again, Mother_." She shuddered. She should win an Academy Award for having to act respectful and subservient to that woman.

The thing that made her the sickest, though? Not everything in that room had been an act. She had been quite satisfied with the way things had gone with Michael the night before. _Her lover_, her mother had called him. Sydney smiled. She supposed that was what he was, now.

God, she was fucked up. For as pleased as she was at how she'd played things with him the night before, he could still make her giggle and blush like a school girl. She smiled as she thought of the way he'd stroked her cheek…the feel of his lips on her neck…lower… He was so strong, so kind, and she was so in love with him. She'd told him so the night before, even before the lovemaking.

He'd been heading to the shower, and she'd been heading out to do the shopping. She smiled and hugged herself at the thought. _Heading out to do the shopping_. It sounded so domestic. She loved it. For as much as she hated the way she'd found him the night before, she was glad that she'd been able to make it better. That she'd been able to take care of him for once, instead of the other way around.

"I'll make you something to eat," she'd said as he'd started towards the shower.

"Oh," he'd said, running a hand back through his hair. "I don't think I have any food at home."

"So I'll go buy some things. And I'll make dinner, and clean up around here."

He'd smiled, and his eyes had softened. He'd liked the sound of it, too. The domesticity of it. The normalcy. He'd said it then. Said it first. "I love you, Sydney."

She'd returned his smile, though she'd wanted to cry. He was so sweet. "I love you, too, Michael. So much."

In the morning, she had left without waking him. She hoped he wasn't upset about that. It was never nice to wake up alone when you'd fallen asleep with someone beside you. She'd left a note: _I had an amazing time last night. Be back this afternoon. I love you_. Nice, she thought. Something to make him feel all warm and fuzzy while she was off selling her soul to the enemy. 

Pretending to sell her soul. She was just pretending to be on her mother's side, after all. It was just a hard thing to remember right then, when she and Michael only knew that they _wanted_ to take down her mother's operation, and not how they would do it.

But at least things were going according to plan so far. Part One had gone well, though she hadn't even known precisely what she was planning at that point. When she'd heard that Michael had been asked to leave the CIA, she had gotten in touch with her mother without really knowing why. Her mother had suggested that they talk in person, and a driver had picked Sydney up, blindfolded her, and taken her to her mother's headquarters, taking so many twists and turns along the way that Sydney would never have been able to memorize the route. Well, maybe she could have. Truth be told, she hadn't really tried.

"Well," her mother had said when Sydney had told her she was ready to join her side. "I'm pleased, of course. But I'd like to ask why."

And Sydney had held her head high, brown eyes full of fierce determination. "I think you can help me as much as I can help you," she told her. "I think you can help me bring down SD-6 much more quickly and efficiently than the CIA can."

Her mother raised her eyebrows. "Oh, really? And what makes you think that?"

Try as she might, Sydney hadn't been able to keep from looking away. "The CIA doesn't want Vaughn working for them anymore," she said. "And I don't want to work for the CIA."

For just a moment, Irina looked genuinely surprised, then her face returned to its usual expression. Blank. Impassive. "So will Mr. Vaughn be joining us, as well?"

It was then that Sydney had faltered. She'd wanted to say something like, "Only if you decide he'll be valuable to us." But of course Irina would have known that was a lie. If Sydney had refused to work for the CIA without Vaughn, why would Irina believe she would work for her?

And she thought of telling her mother, "He will if I ask him to," but at that point, she wasn't sure if that was true, either. Irina had _killed his father_. What could possibly convince him to work for such a woman? Did Sydney even want to convince him to work for her?

That's when it had hit her. They wouldn't just take down SD-6.

They would take down Irina's operation from the inside.

It had been hard to keep the smile from her face after that. Her mother hadn't seemed to notice.

"You haven't even talked to Mr. Vaughn about this, have you," she said scathingly.

Sydney looked at her confidently. "It doesn't matter," she said. "He will if I ask him to."

Irina smirked. "Because he loves you so much." She said _love_ as if it were an imaginary thing.

"I--" Sydney began, but Irina would have none of it.

"When has he ever given you the impression that he has those kind of feelings for you?" she demanded. "I've been watching the two of you, Sydney. He's never kissed you, never laid a hand on you except to offer comfort. If I were to judge, I'd guess that he thinks of you as nothing more than a co-worker. At best, a friend."

For a moment, Sydney was speechless. Could that be true? "He got fired for breaking too many rules to help me," she whispered.

Irina shrugged. "So he feels protective of you. I don't think that means he's ready to work for a woman he hates just to be with you."

And then Sydney's resolve had returned, and a smile had flickered across her face. Because Vaughn wouldn't be doing it just to be with her. There were better reasons. Most of which Irina couldn't know a thing about. "You know what?" she told her mother. "If he feels anything at all for me, he'll do it. Because as of the minute the CIA gave him the axe, he officially has nothing to lose. Nothing to live for. Except me."

Irina actually laughed, a cold, heartless laugh. "Please. He has plenty to live for. There are other games to be played besides spy games, other professions besides intelligence that I'm sure he'd be well suited for. Other women besides you."

In spite of herself, Sydney had felt her blood run cold.

"He probably can't see that now," Irina continued. "But he will in time."

That had stopped Sydney short. Maybe that was true. Maybe Vaughn didn't need what she was about to give him. Would her desire to have him with her always keep him from living a different life, a better life?

She thought about that question for a long moment. And she looked her mother square in the eye when she gave her the answer.

"So I guess I'll have to get to him quickly, won't I?"


	5. Something So Seductive

****

Chapter Five: Something So Seductive

Michael had to admit, he'd been nervous preparing for his first meeting with Irina Derevko. Sydney had tried to calm him down, but honestly, she hadn't helped matters much.

"It's not like you have to act all thrilled to see her," she'd encouraged. She had fretted over what he would wear to the meeting for much longer than he'd thought necessary.

"I don't think you should wear a tie," she'd decided, biting her lower lip in concentration. "You need something that says, _I'm at the end of my rope and I have a taste for blood_."

"Great," he'd replied, rolling his eyes. "We'll just pick something out at the Gap, then."

Finally she had settled on a black long-sleeved button down and a pair of slate gray slacks. "Oh, you look great," she said, a delighted smile on her face.

"Uh-huh," he said wryly. "The perfect ensemble for making a deal with the devil. You're sure, no tie?"

"Hmm, maybe," she said, ducking into his closet. "Maybe something red. Do you have anything red?"

"What's the look you're going for, Syd?" he asked with a smile. "Mafia hit man, pimp--?"

"Well, we don't know exactly what your duties will be," she teased, emerging from the closet wearing a sheepish smile. "Okay, okay, so I'm a little nervous." She threw her arms around his neck. It was then that she'd said it. "You don't have to act all thrilled to see her."

Michael felt his face turn stony. "Good," he said. "Because I'm quite sure that would be impossible."

She pulled away from him, her smile sad, regretful. "Just act like you're in this because you have nowhere else to turn," she said, smoothing the front of his shirt with her hands. "And because I'm very, very persuasive."

"That won't be hard," he said, moving away from her to sit on the bed. "That _is_ pretty much why I'm in this."

She came to rest gingerly next to him, as if she weren't sure he would appreciate her presence there. "And revenge." He didn't look at her, but he could hear the smile in her voice. "You're in this for revenge, too."

"Oh, that's right." He pulled her to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

"I feel like I played you last night," she whispered. "Do you feel like that?"

He paused, considering the question. "I don't know. Maybe you did play me," he said. "Maybe I don't even care. Maybe this is exactly what I should be doing."

"But you're not sure," she said, pulling away to gaze up at him.

He opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the sound of the ringing phone. "Shit, I'd better get that," he said. She nodded, and he reached toward the nightstand for the phone. "Vaughn," he answered.

"Mike, hey. It's Eric."

Michael tensed up at the sound of Weiss's voice. They hadn't exactly been on the best of terms when he'd left the CIA.

"I just thought I'd call and see how you were doing," Weiss continued.

"Great timing," Michael said, feeling his grip tighten on the phone. "If you'd called this time yesterday I would have been too drunk to answer."

"Oh, hey," Weiss said in a rush. "Mike, I wanted to check on you sooner, I just--"

"It's okay," Michael cut in. "Sydney's here. She's taking care of me quite well."

Beside him, Sydney raised her eyebrows, apparently surprised that he'd mentioned her. Honestly, he wasn't sure why he had.

"Oh." The tone of Weiss's voice was virtually unreadable. "So I guess she's okay, then. Devlin, her father-- no one's heard from her in a couple of days."

Michael closed his eyes. _Fuck_. He hoped he hadn't just made the mistake of the century, letting Weiss know that he and Sydney were together. He supposed everyone would have guessed it soon enough, anyway, when the two of them disappeared. "She's fine," Michael finally said. "She's just worried about me. Trying to help me." Sydney took his free hand and squeezed it. He smiled lovingly at her. God, she was beautiful. She was all he needed.

"Well-- good, I guess. I'm glad you're both okay."

__

Oh, Eric. We're about as fucking far from okay as you can get. In less than half an hour, I'll be in a car to see Irina Derevko. And guess what? I'm never coming back. Ever. But Michael didn't say that. He said nothing.

"And hey, Mike, if you're looking for a job--"

"Damn it, Eric!" he finally exploded. "I've been unemployed for less than a week, sober for less than twenty-four hours. I hardly think this is the time to start with some job search!"

"Fine! Fine, Michael! You know, I'm only trying to help you here!" Now Weiss sounded really angry. Good. That made two of them. "You brought this on yourself, Michael, I just--"

"Go to hell." That was the end of the conversation. Michael slammed down the phone.

Sydney didn't ask questions. Probably knew it was better not to.

"I shouldn't have told him you were here. I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "Devlin and your father are asking about you, apparently. I didn't realize you hadn't been in touch with them."

"Not since I went to my mother," Sydney said, staring down at her lap. "I knew that Dad would know something was up."

Michael squeezed her hand. "Maybe you should tell him about your plan," he suggested. "Then at least he won't look for you when you leave."

Sydney was shaking her head before he even finished his sentence. "No, Michael. No way. If he knew I was going to be spending time with that woman, for any reason--" she broke off, looking away. "This way at least maybe he won't know I went willingly."

Michael opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn't interested. She jumped up from the bed, letting him know the conversation was over. "We'd better go, Michael. A car's going to pick us up at the Texaco station a few blocks over."

"Why the Texaco station?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes. "Please, Michael," she said, the scathing in her voice startling him. "I don't want them knowing where you live any more than they want us knowing where their operation is." Then she frowned, as if she realized how harsh her tone had been. "I'm going to warn you, Michael, you're not going to like the way I act around my mother. _I_ don't even like the way I act around my mother."

"How do you act around your mother?" Michael asked curiously.

Sydney shook her head, looking disgusted with herself. "Cold. Proper. Like I simultaneously despise her and fear her." She paused, biting her lower lip thoughtfully. "Maybe that's not so far from how I really do feel."

He moved to stand behind her, rubbing his hands over her arms soothingly. "Don't worry, darling." _Darling_. He'd never called anyone that before, and it had just dropped out of his mouth as naturally as if he'd been saying it his entire life. "By the time we've finished with her, Irina Derevko is going to fear _you_."

It had been the right thing to say. Sydney turned to him, roughly claiming his lips with hers. He didn't resist, arms around her waist as his mouth hungrily ravished hers.

There was something so seductive about revenge. 


	6. Holding His Own

Author's note: Special thanks to Fanatic482 and the others who have reviewed my previous chapters. You guys make my day!

This chapter is kind of short and uneventful, but after a few days of writing nothing, I needed to sort of warm myself up, and anyway, it leads nicely into what's going to happen next…

****

Chapter Six: Holding His Own

Sometimes when Michael looked at the life he had chosen, it made him sick.

Doing Irina Derevko's bidding. Acting as if her very presence didn't make him want to vomit. Watching Sydney turn into Irina's willing little servant whenever her mother entered a room. They were supposedly taking Irina's organization down, but after three months, he could hardly see the progress they'd made. The worst part was, Sydney didn't even seem to care. She almost seemed to enjoy this life.

The thing he hated most, though? Sometimes, he kind of enjoyed it, too.

His life before had been comfortable, but Irina had introduced him to wealth and luxury beyond his wildest dreams. And power. Irina hadn't trusted him and Sydney with much responsibility at first, but the two of them were good actors, and good at what they did, and they were already moving up in the ranks of Irina's organization. Sometimes Michael wasn't sure if he should take pride in that, though Sydney assured him only good things could come from it.

"The more information we have access to, the more opportunity we have to destroy her," she was constantly pointing out.

Oh, Sydney. Undoubtedly she was the best part of his new life, the best part, in fact, of every day. Sometimes he could scarcely believe that they were allowed to act like a couple in front of whomever they chose. Sure, Syd was different than she had been back in their CIA days. So was he. But the new people they had become wanted and craved each other even more than the old Michael and Sydney had, and now, they could actually act on their feelings.

"You look so beautiful," he told her one night, leaning over to kiss her neck. Irina was throwing a party that evening, and Sydney really was radiant in the cream-colored strapless dress she wore.

She turned away from the mirror to face him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "You look gorgeous, too, Michael," she said, pulling him to her with a contented sigh.

"Stick close to me tonight at the party, okay?" he whispered into her ear. "I don't think I can face this mess alone."

"Oh, Michael, you'll be fine." She pulled away from him, turning back to the mirror to fasten her earrings.

"That's easy for you to say," he said, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You're a better liar than I am."

She glanced up at him, anger flashing in her brown eyes. "That's a horrible thing to say."

"It's also true," he pointed out, dropping a kiss on her neck.

Sydney sighed, gingerly touching her hair, which she had pulled up for the occasion. "Apparently, deceitfulness isn't a trait you find unattractive."

"It might be under normal circumstances," he said, between kisses on her neck and shoulders. "But under the circumstances we're in, I find it admirable."

"That's lovely, Michael," she said, moving away from him to disappear into the closet. She returned a moment later with a strappy pair of high-heeled shoes.

"Oh, Syd, don't be mad," he said, as she sat on the bed to fasten the buckles on the shoes. "I'll just be more comfortable if you're with me tonight, okay?"

"So say that, then," she said, glaring up at him. "Don't tell me I'm a good liar like you think it'll flatter me, or something. I'm not as evil as I pretend to be, you know."

He tried his best to hide his smile, to no avail. "I'm sorry, Syd. Okay?" He sat next to her on the bed, placing a hand on her shoulder. She quickly jerked away from his touch. 

"Your magic hands aren't going to get you out of this one, Michael Vaughn," she said, crossing her arms before her.

Again, he found himself struggling to keep the smile from his face. She wasn't mad now, just pouting. "Come on, sweetheart," he coaxed. "It's just going to be really awkward tonight. Having to rub shoulders with all of your mother's henchmen-- Sark, Khasineau. Having to fool them into believing our intentions for being here are pure."

"It won't be so bad," she said with a shrug.

"No, not for you," he said, offering her a teasing smile. "You're a good liar."

"Michael--" she began, eyes flaring, but he silenced her with a kiss. She struggled against him at first, then he felt her give herself up to him; it was she who pushed him onto his back, working her lips down his neck.

A knock on the bedroom door threatened to interrupt their bliss. "Mmm, come back later!" Sydney managed to call out between kisses.

"I need to speak to you," Irina responded, her voice as sharp as nails.

Sydney rolled her eyes, leaving one last kiss on Michael's neck before responding. "It's not locked," she said with a sigh, rolling off of him and sitting up, straightening her clothes as she went. He did the same.

"Well, don't the two of you look lovely," Irina said, giving each of them a quick once-over. "Though your lipstick is smeared, Sydney."

"Thanks." Michael thought it was to Sydney's credit that she was able to keep from blushing.

"Why don't you fix it, while I take Mr. Vaughn away for a moment," Irina said, a cool smile playing about her lips. "You don't mind if I have a word with you, do you, Mr. Vaughn?"

"Of course not," Michael said, kissing Sydney's cheek and squeezing her hand before rising from her side. "And how many times have I told you to call me Michael?" Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sydney hide a smile. He did his best to hide one of his own.

Sydney might have been the better actor. But he could hold his own when he needed to.


	7. Mind Games

****

Chapter Seven: Mind Games

"Well, Mr. Vaughn," Irina said once they were both seated in her office down the hall. "I just thought we should chat. We really haven't had that many opportunities to speak alone."

She watched the expression on his face carefully for his reaction. Mr. Vaughn was a competent actor, she supposed, or would have been, if not for his eyes. One look in those beautiful green globes told her exactly what he was thinking.

"No," he said, his expression remaining impassive, for once. "We certainly haven't."

"You've been awfully busy getting acquainted with my daughter," Irina said, a cold smile playing about her lips. And she watched his eyes, watched the flash of anger and surprise they betrayed before turning blank. Yes, his eyes were definitely a weakness, one of many she detected in Mr. Vaughn. That was fine-- she could accept weaknesses as far as he was concerned. They would only make him that much easier to control.

She still didn't completely trust Michael Vaughn, or Sydney, for that matter. That was fine, too. If they caused problems, they could be dealt with. The two of them were hardly indispensable.

"I-- um--" Michael said, in a voice that struggled not to display emotion. "I was acquainted with your daughter before."

"But not like you are now, were you?"

It was amusing to watch his face as it contorted, searching for an acceptable response to her question. "We haven't had to hide our feelings since we came here," he said finally. "So, yes, I suppose we've become better acquainted."

Irina rose from her chair and began to circle the desk-- rather, circle him-- slowly, deliberately. "I understand my daughter did quite a service to you, Mr. Vaughn." Now she paused beside him, gazing imperiously down at him as he struggled for words.

"I'm not sure what you mean, Ms. Derevko."

Irina smirked. It was actually kind of sweet, the way he was trying so hard to be polite. If she wasn't going to call him by his first name, he wasn't going to call her by hers. She wondered what his reaction would be if she said, _You know, you're practically married to my daughter. Why don't you just call me Mom_? It would almost be worth saying it, just to see his reaction. But no, now was not the time for that.

"Well, I heard that when she found you after your-- _incident_-- with the CIA--" Ha. He flinched. Didn't even try to hide it. "--she practically had to scrape your drunken, unshaven self off of your living room floor."

"She said _that_?" The poor man looked absolutely mortified. He really was too easy to play with. This was almost cruel.

"No, of course she didn't say that," Irina said, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Of course he grew tense under her touch. So fucking predictable. "She was terribly worried about you, though."

Michael ran a hand back through his light brown hair. There was no pretense of trying to hide his emotions now. "Well, I'm very sorry for worrying her."

"Yes, I'm sure you are." Now. Just the right mixture of concern on her face as she perched on the desk in front of him. "I just wonder, though."

Michael looked up at her, not bothering to conceal the curiosity on his face. "Wonder about what?"

Now Irina rose from the desk, circling back to her own chair, pausing deliberately beside it. "Oh, I don't know." She collapsed into the chair as if she was, in fact, carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders. "I just worry that she left the CIA for the wrong reasons. I'm thrilled to have her working for me, of course," she added hastily, sensing his skepticism. "But I know she would be doing no such thing if it wasn't for--" She let the rest of her sentence trail off deliberately. They both knew how she would have ended it: _If it wasn't for you, Michael Vaughn._

To his credit, Michael only sat there looking stunned and guilty for, oh, about thirty seconds. "The-- the CIA wasn't helping her achieve her goals anymore," he said, and Irina smiled. It sounded like he wanted to convince himself as badly as he wanted to convince her.

"Of course it wasn't," Irina said, loading her voice with just the right amount of patronization. "And it wasn't allowing you to achieve them with her."

Michael didn't say anything, only sat there, thin-lipped, white-faced. 

"Yes, I would say that you owe my daughter quite a debt of gratitude," Irina said, nodding as if she had considered the situation very carefully. "And I owe one to you, Mr. Vaughn."

Michael looked at her, his eyes a silent question: _Why_?

"You see, my plans always included having my daughter with me. When I built this empire, I always had her in mind. An heir to the throne, if you will." She rose from her chair again, but this time, she didn't start for him. She started for the door. "And now it looks as if you'll sit there with her. So you see, it worked out very nicely for all of us."

And she left him there, looking as if he was ready to be sick. Irina would have almost felt sorry for him. Except she had always found weakness to be so much more worthy of ridicule than pity.

She wondered if Sydney had ever had any trouble getting him into bed. Because it had just been so deliciously easy to mindfuck him.

****


	8. For Them

****

Chapter Eight: For Them

Sydney heard the bedroom door slam, and she spun away from the mirror to see Michael, standing wild-eyed before her. "Michael, what--"

"We are bringing that bitch down," he said, his voice gravely serious even as his eyes showed that he was about thisclose to completely losing it. "And we are getting _the hell_ out of here."

"Michael--"

"Hell, I'm about ready to forget bringing her down," he interrupted, eyes glinting with something she didn't quite recognize. "We could just go fake our own deaths and live on an island somewhere. We could do that, right? We have the resources to do that."

"Michael, what did she say to you?" That was the one thing she was learning about Michael that she couldn't stand-- he had the ability to surprise her, scare her. Like the day she'd found him drunk and unshaven in his apartment.

Like right now.

"Sydney, what were you thinking the day you came to my apartment?" he demanded, fixing his wild eyes on her. "The day you suggested we do this. Work for your mother."

"I-- I wanted to help you." She didn't know how to react when he acted like this. Didn't know what the right things to say were.

"You wanted to help me," he repeated, nodding as if he understood. "You thought hurting yourself so badly would help me?"

"What do you--"

"Why couldn't you have just let me be, Sydney?" He dropped onto the bed as if he couldn't possibly stand any longer. "You could have stayed with the CIA. Kept trying to bring SD-6 down with the good guys."

Sydney looked at him, amazed. What the hell had her mother said to him? "And what about you?"

"I would have been all right, Sydney," he said, staring up at her earnestly. "Of course I would have been all right."

Sydney couldn't help it. She laughed, a weak, hysterical little laugh. "Of course? When I found you, you were floating on a sea of Heineken."

He drew back as if she had slapped him. "You always do that," he said, sounding strangely wounded. "You never think I can do anything for myself, Sydney."

"_I_ always do that?" she repeated incredulously. "Who was the one who always came running after me the minute you didn't know where I was on a mission?"

"I was trying to protect you," he snapped.

"I was returning the favor," she shot back.

They glared at each other for a moment before either of them spoke again.

"So this is how it's going to be now?" he finally demanded. "We stay together because we feel like we owe each other something?"

Sydney felt tears prickling the backs of her eyelids. "I stay with you because I love you," she said. "I guess I don't know why you stay with me."

He rose to face her, the pain clear in his green eyes. "Sydney, of course I love you, too," he said, his voice softening. "But I hate what's happened to us."

Sydney wanted to go to him, put her arms around him, but she hesitated. "Michael-- I don't know what she said to you," she said. "But this is what she wants, you know? She's okay with us being in love. But she wants our first allegiance to be to her, so she has to create problems."

Michael sat back down on the bed, sighing as he ran a hand back through his brown hair. "Yeah, the thing is, she doesn't have to create anything," he said. "She just has to use what she already knows about us."

It was then that Sydney dared to sit next to him, wrapping her arms around him. "She doesn't know everything," she whispered. "She doesn't know what we're going to do to her."

Michael sighed. "Of course she does, Sydney," he said wearily. "She just doesn't believe we can do it."

"But we can, Michael," Sydney murmured, resting her head on his shoulder.

Michael groaned. "I'm not sure if I care anymore, Sydney."

Sydney didn't dare look at him as she said, "I'm sorry, Michael."

"Don't apologize." He sounded so sad to Sydney. So tired. "We both made our choices. We're both adults."

She felt a twinge of guilt in the pit of her stomach. "But you made your choice when you were at your weakest."

"Just don't, Syd."

Once again, Sydney felt her eyes filling with tears. In that moment, she hated her mother more than she had ever thought possible. Was this always going to be between them now, this tension, this-- guilt?

"We'll bring them down, Michael," she whispered. As far as she was concerned now, they had to.

Not just for him. For them.


	9. Notorious

****

Chapter Nine: Notorious

Michael entered the party with Sydney, but he excused himself to get some air almost as soon as they'd arrived. He wasn't in the mood to be social just then.

Unfortunately, he found that even out on the balcony, he wouldn't have the chance to be alone. A slim blonde woman who looked to be in her early twenties stood, fumbling through the pockets of the tuxedo jacket she'd thrown over her ice blue dress.

"Looking for something?" Michael asked. He wasn't sure why. He could have just ignored her, taken a few deep breaths, and gone back inside. But he had no desire to go back to the party just yet, even if that was where Sydney was.

"Oh." The woman looked up at him, and he was startled to see that her eyes were two different colors, one green and one blue. She was quite striking, actually, with her white blonde hair and her tanned, freckled skin. Funny, but Michael had almost exclusively dated blondes, before Sydney. "I thought my date would have some matches in his jacket pocket, but I guess he doesn't. Do you have a light?"

"Oh. Sure." Michael didn't smoke himself, but he'd learned somewhere that carrying around a pack of cigarettes and a lighter was a good way to strike up a conversation with someone, should the need arise. He'd like to say he'd learned it in CIA training, but he had a sneaking suspicion it had been from some spy movie.

"Thank you," she said, smiling up at him as he lit her cigarette. "My name's Brooke Banning."

"Michael Vaughn."

"Oh." A glint of recognition flashed in her eyes. "I've heard of you. You're with Irina's daughter."

"Yes." It surprised him that she'd heard of him. He didn't know whether it should concern him, as well. "I didn't really know I was famous around here."

"Mmm, more like notorious," she said, a lilting laugh escaping from her delicate pink lips. "You're the CIA agent who went bad."

Michael felt his heart leap into his throat, but he did his best to ignore it. "Not bad, necessarily," he said, struggling to keep his voice even. "Different."

This warranted raised eyebrows from Brooke. "If you think that, then you don't know Irina very well. Is her daughter half as evil as she is?"

"She has her moments," Michael said, surprising himself. Where had that come from? "I mean, Sydney's great," he added hastily.

Brooke smirked, looking him up and down in a way he wasn't sure he completely hated. "But…"

Michael shrugged. "Things are just complicated between the two of us. More complicated than I'd like, sometimes." Damn, what was he saying?

But Brooke seemed to understand perfectly. "You know, you struggle through all that getting-to-know-you bullshit when you first meet someone--"

"Like now?" Michael cut in.

"Yeah," she said, and they both laughed. "Anyway, and you wish you could just skip all that. Then after awhile you've been through so much with that other person, and it gets so complicated, and sometimes you wish you could go back to the point when all you knew about them was that you liked the way they looked."

"Exactly." Except, he'd never had that with Sydney. They hadn't met in a bar. He hadn't eyed her from across the room and decided to make a move. They'd met when she was grieving Danny, and he was still with Alice, and they'd been thrown into one life or death situation together after another until neither of them could imagine themselves with anyone else.

Or could they?

"So, I take it you work for Irina, too," Michael said to Brooke.

"Uh-huh," she said, not looking terribly thrilled about the fact. "For almost five years now."

"Five years?" Michael repeated, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. "You look awfully young."

Brooke laughed. "What about you?" she countered. "You don't exactly look old enough to be my daddy."

"I--"

"Michael?"

Michael turned to look at Sydney, standing at the door to the balcony, looking confused and a little hurt by what she was seeing. For some reason, he felt the slightest sense of satisfaction at that. "Hi, Syd."

Sydney glanced from him to Brooke and back again, finally moving towards him and sliding a possessive arm around his waist. "Michael, darling, why don't you come back to the party?" He fought the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. So this was how she acted when she was jealous. It was kind of cute. "I need a dance partner."

"Of course, sweetheart," he said, wrapping his arms around her as she snuggled up against him.

It was only when she had firmly established her claim on him that she turned to Brooke, looking at her as if she were no more than an irritating little bug. "I don't believe we've met," she said coolly.

"No, but I've heard about you," Brooke said, a bemused twinkle in her eye as she glanced from Sydney to Michael and back again. "You're Sydney Bristow."

"Oh, Michael's mentioned me?" Sydney purred. Michael felt her pull him closer to her, if that were even possible.

Brooke laughed gently. "Let's just say you're kind of famous around here."

"No, not famous," Michael corrected with a smile. "Notorious."

"That's right." Brooke and Michael shared a laugh.

This didn't seem to please Sydney one bit. "Come on, baby," she encouraged. "Let's go back to the party."

"Whatever you want, sweetheart," Michael said, kissing her cheek. He'd coddle her ego a little if he needed to. Of course she was the only one he really wanted, anyway. Although-- "It was nice talking to you, Brooke."

"You too, Michael," she said with a smile. "Oh, I didn't get to introduce myself, Sydney. Brooke Banning."

"Charmed," Sydney said, though she was already ushering Michael back through the sliding glass doors that led back inside.

"I'm sure we'll be seeing each other again," Brooke called after them.

As much as Michael adored the woman who was currently clinging to him like a leech, he couldn't help but feel a little pleased by the idea.


	10. Master Plan

****

Chapter Ten: Master Plan

The day after the party Irina sat with Sydney in her office, coaching her on her next mission. The only problem was, her daughter didn't seem to be paying attention.

"Sydney," she snapped.

Sydney jerked to attention as if she had forgotten where she was. "What? Oh, I'm sorry, Mother."

Irina cocked her head to one side, wondering what the best approach to take with her would be. "Would you like to tell me what's going on?"

"Oh, it's nothing, I just--" Sydney bit her lower lip as if wondering precisely how much she should share with her mother. "How much do you know about Brooke Banning?"

Irina smirked. "Everything, of course, darling." Who did Sydney think she was talking to? "What do you want to know?"

Sydney shrugged. "Just the basics, I guess."

Irina frowned in concern. Sydney really did seem quite disturbed. Not at all like herself. "Well, Brooke's a very capable agent. But a little more willful than I'd like."

"Great," Sydney muttered. "Exactly Michael's type."

"Excuse me?" Was it possible? Was Sydney actually worried that the valiant Prince Vaughn's eye was starting to wander?

"Nothing," Sydney said, shaking her head. "Tell me more. How old is she? How long has she been with your organization?"

Irina frowned, wondering exactly what had happened to inspire this line of questioning. Well, she'd find out when the time was right. "Brooke is twenty-two," Irina revealed. "And she's been with us for five years."

"Since she was seventeen?" Sydney asked unbelievingly.

"Yes," Irina confirmed. She could scarcely believe how shaken up her daughter was. It wasn't like her. "We found her in Phoenix, literally wandering the streets. Quite pathetic, really. She was a high school dropout, a runaway, a junkie. She'd been on her own for a year or more, slumming around with whoever could get her the next fix. I believe she said she was from Portland, actually, but her latest boyfriend had just left her in Phoenix like some common piece of trash." Irina laughed mirthlessly. "She was lucky we found her."

The hatred in Sydney's gaze took Irina by surprise. "So that's what you do," she spat. "You take people who are at their lowest, their weakest, and you make them your slaves."

Irina rose, circling the desk to pat her daughter's shoulder. "Except for you, darling. You joined me willingly."

Sydney glared up at her. "Fuck you."

Irina raised her eyebrows, but frankly, the words didn't shock her. "Don't judge me too harshly, Sydney," she said, returning to the other side of the desk to take her seat. "After all, didn't you do the same thing to Mr. Vaughn?"

Sydney's mouth dropped open, and her eyes filled with tears, but to her credit, she stayed silent.

"This insolent attitude of yours does not become you, and it's not like you," Irina said, eyeing her daughter critically. "Now why don't you tell me what your problem is?"

Sydney took a moment to collect herself before speaking. "It's nothing."

Irina frowned. "Why all the questions about Brooke, then? Did you meet her at the party?"

"Michael did," Sydney said archly.

Irina couldn't help but smile. She never would have pegged her daughter as the jealous kind. "Sydney, Brooke attended the party with Sark, you know that, don't you? They're something of an item."

"I'm sure they are. I'm not thinking rationally," Sydney sighed, leaning back in her chair and rubbing her temples. "I behaved so ridiculously at the party last night," she confessed. "I saw Brooke and Michael talking, and I marched up and attached myself to him like I was marking my territory, or something. I barely left his side all night. He practically had to pry me off of him when he wanted to use the restroom."

"Well, that's pathetic," Irina said, though secretly she thought it was kind of sweet.

"I know," Sydney admitted. "And Michael was really great about it, too. He didn't call me on acting crazy or jealous, he just, you know, followed my lead."

"Well, he's a good man, Sydney." Probably too good, Irina thought, to be mixed up with the likes of them. "Though hardly the only man on the planet."

"Mother--"

"I won't start," Irina said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. She felt a sudden tenderness towards her daughter, something quite unfamiliar to her. "You're not used to having Michael pay attention to other women, are you?"

"I'm not," Sydney said. "I've been spoiled. I've hardly ever even seen him in another woman's presence, so I've gotten to pretend I'm the only woman in the world when I'm with him."

Irina smiled. "Well, you very well may be the only woman for him, but that doesn't mean you can get lazy," she advised. "He's a very attractive man, Sydney, and quite charming and attentive. He needs to feel that you appreciate him."

"I know," Sydney said, rising from her chair suddenly. "Are we done here? I'd like to go find him."

"We can talk later," Irina said, waving her away. "Go to your lover."

Sydney beamed, and for one startling moment, Irina thought her daughter might actually hug her. But the moment passed, and Sydney started out the door. But not before she tossed a "Thanks, Mom," over her shoulder.

Irina settled back in her chair with a contented sigh. Well. She probably hadn't needed to build up Sydney's feelings for Michael like that, but she figured it had been worth it. Any damage that had been done could be repaired later. Right now, more than anything, she needed Sydney to trust her.

Then she could talk to her about where, precisely, Brooke Banning fit into her master plan. 


	11. Without You

****

Chapter Eleven: Without You

"I can't believe she's sending me out without you," Sydney complained, throwing a pair of jeans into her suitcase. Her follow-up conversation with her mother had been pleasant enough, she supposed. Right up until the part where she had learned that Sark, not Michael, would be her partner for her next op. Of course she had tried to argue with her mother, but to no avail.

"You'll only be gone overnight," Michael reminded her. He lounged on the bed while she rocketed back and forth between the closet and her suitcase.

"God, Michael, aren't you at all _worried_ about me going into the field without you?" Sydney asked irritably.

"Syd, you used to go on missions without me all the time," Michael said, gazing up at her with a bemused smile. Great. She was really glad he found this humorous, because she sure as hell didn't.

"But don't you think it's weird she's sending me without you?" she pressed, tossing a pair of running shoes into the suitcase.

"Not that weird," Michael said. "I'm sure someday there'll be circumstances where you and I absolutely won't be able to work together. She needs to know we can work with other people."

"Why the hell are you being so rational?" Sydney exploded, zipping the suitcase shut. "You'd almost think you wanted to get rid of me, or something."

"Sydney, what's gotten into you?" Sydney had half a mind to slap the smile right off of his face. She resisted the urge.

"Nothing. I don't know," she said, collapsing next to him on the bed. "We just haven't spent a night apart since we got here."

"Oh, honey," he said, rolling onto his side to kiss her. "I'll miss you, too."

Sydney sighed. "I love you, Michael. So much."

He smiled, reaching out to touch her cheek. "I love you, too, Syd."

She returned his smile, leaning over to kiss him again. "You'll be good while I'm gone, won't you?"

"Syd," he laughed. "What are you talking about?"

"I don't know." She reached out and took his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "I guess I just felt weird about that whole conversation we had before the party last night, and then when I saw you talking to Brooke--" she let her voice trail off, shrugging her shoulders.

"Honey," he said, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing it. "I love you. You know that."

"I know," she said, her eyes going blurry with tears. "I just-- Michael--"

"Shh, honey. Come here," he soothed, pulling her to him and wrapping his arms around her. She sobbed into his chest until a knock on the bedroom door prompted her to pull away.

"Just a minute!" she croaked.

"Sydney," her mother called. "The car is here to take you and Mr. Sark to the airport."

"Just a minute!" she repeated, then turned her attention back to Michael. "Gosh, I'd better go," she said, standing and wiping her tears away with the heel of her hand.

"Sydney," Michael said, green eyes dark with concern. "Are you going to be all right?"

Sydney took his hand, willing herself not to start crying again. "Promise me you'll be good while I'm gone, Michael."

"Sydney--"

"I need you to say it," she interrupted firmly. "And I need it to be the truth."

He stood, leaning over to give her the gentlest, sweetest kiss she had ever received. "I'll be good, sweetheart," he said, placing a tender hand on her cheek. "You just get back to me safely, okay?"

She threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his chest and letting him hold her close. She wished she could have stayed like that forever, but she knew she had to go. "I love you," she said, giving him one last kiss before she pulled away. "I'll be back tomorrow, okay? I don't know how late."

"Okay, honey. I love you, too."

She picked up her suitcase and started for the door, blowing him a kiss as she left. It took everything in her power not to go rushing right back into his arms.

She went downstairs to meet the car like her mother expected her to. But she couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to go terribly wrong.


	12. The Skills Necessary

****

Chapter Twelve: The Skills Necessary

"Michael, hi."

Michael stopped short on his way to Irina's office. Despite what he'd told Sydney, he was actually quite concerned that her mother had sent her out with Sark. He planned to have a little conversation with Irina and see what he could find out.

He hoped he had prepared himself enough. It seemed that every conversation with Irina left him feeling as if he had just finished a game of chess with an opponent whose skills were far superior to his own.

Now he turned to face the person who had halted him on his path to Irina's office. He felt a momentary rush of happiness at the sight of Brooke Banning, though he did his best to push the feeling aside. "Promise me you'll be good while I'm gone, Michael." He'd never seen Sydney so needy, so insecure, and it worried him, ridiculous as her concerns were. Of course he would never be interested in Brooke.

Although she did wear the hell out of the short black skirt and the tall, high-heeled boots she was dressed in just then. "Hi, Brooke," he returned her greeting. "I've never seen you around here before."

"Oh, I make an appearance every now and then," Brooke said with a smile. "I don't always meet with Irina directly. She asked to see me today, though."

Michael nodded, startled as he had been the first time they'd met by her unusually striking eyes. "I was hoping to speak with Irina myself," he told her. "But if you have a meeting, I guess I'll come back."

"I should only be a few minutes, if you want to wait," Brooke said, tossing her white-blonde hair over her shoulder. Michael would have had to be blind not to notice how amazing-looking she was.

"Maybe I'll do that," Michael said with a shrug. What else did he have to do, but wait? Sydney was gone.

"So, did you have fun at the party last night?" Brooke asked with a smile.

"Sure," Michael said. Really, it had been rather amusing to have Sydney fawning all over him like she'd been. Such attentiveness from her was a rather rare thing. Only today had he realized how much his basically innocent conversation with Brooke had bothered her. Again, he thought it was ridiculous of her to worry, but he'd do whatever it took to make her feel better. 

Not that there was much he could do to comfort her while she was off overnight with that bastard Sark.

"You did?" Brooke cocked her head to one side, a question in her eyes. "Really?"

"Sure, I had a good time," Michael said with a shrug. It hadn't been as tense and humiliating as he'd feared it might have been, anyway. His encounter with Brooke and Sydney's subsequent reaction had pretty much taken care of that. "Why? You sound surprised."

"No reason," Brooke said, gazing into his eyes as if trying to peer into his soul. "It just didn't look like you got much of a chance to talk to anyone besides your date."

"I got to talk to you," Michael pointed out with a smile. Damn. Had that come out sounding flirtatious? He hadn't meant for it to sound flirtatious. Or had he?

"Yeah." Okay, from the look she was giving him, he was guessing that it definitely had. Once again, _damn_. "You sure did."

Both looked up as the door to Irina's office swung open and Sydney's mother appeared in the hallway. For a fraction of a second, she looked surprised to see the two of them together, then her features contorted into a soft smile Michael wasn't sure he liked.

"Oh, Brooke, good," she said. "You're right on time."

"It's good to see you, Irina." Michael frowned at the warm smile Brooke directed at Sydney's mother. From the way Brooke had spoken the night before, Michael hadn't thought she liked Irina very much, but then, he supposed everyone on Ms. Derevko's payroll was putting on some sort of act.

"And Mr. Vaughn, what a pleasant surprise," Irina continued, throwing Michael a cool smile. "Do we have an appointment?"

"No, we don't." Michael had a feeling that after their encounter the night before, it was going to be awfully hard for him to keep up his own act with her, but he was going to try his damnedest. "I was just hoping you had a moment to speak with me."

"Of course, Mr. Vaughn. In fact, why don't we speak over dinner?" Irina suggested. "Brooke, why don't you join us, too?"

A cozy dinner with Sydney's mother and the woman that was bringing out all of Sydney's insecurities wasn't exactly what Michael had in mind, but how could he refuse? "That-- um, that sounds great," he managed. "But I was kind of hoping to speak with you alone. About Sydney."

"I can't imagine why you'd be interested in discussing my daughter." The insinuating glance Irina shot at Brooke made Michael's blood run cold. "But perhaps we can have a few minutes of privacy after dinner."

Michael struggled to paste a smile onto his face. "Thank you, Ms. Derevko."

"Please." Michael could think of only one word to describe the smile on Irina's face: _wicked_. "How many times have I told you to call me Irina?" Bitch. She was trying to trip him up, torture him. Well, he could play that game. In fact, he'd do her one better.

"I'm so sorry. Of course. Irina." And he leaned over and planted a kiss on Irina's cheek. The surprised look on her face and the brief smile that flashed over Brooke's were enough to keep the vomit from rising to his throat.

Of course Sydney's mother recovered quickly. Of course she was much more skilled at such games than he was. "Good, Michael." The sound of his own first name from her lips was like fingernails scratching on a chalkboard to him, but he kept the smile firmly pasted on his face. Maybe he had doubted his own abilities. Maybe he was becoming a better actor every day. Liar. Whatever. "Now, Brooke, why don't you come in? Michael, if you'd like to go do whatever you need to get ready for dinner, my business with Ms. Banning should be finished shortly."

"All right." And Michael turned and started back down he hall, trying to hide how badly his hands were shaking, how badly this brief meeting had utterly, completely unnerved him. Trying to pretend that he was looking forward to the dinner he was going to have with the last two women he'd expected to share a meal. Trying to pretend he'd had a choice in accepting the invitation.

And if he could convince Irina that his behavior was sincere, maybe he could convince himself that he really possessed the skills necessary to play this game.


	13. Your Mission, Ms Banning

****

Chapter Lucky Thirteen: Your Mission, Miss Banning…

"Your mission, Ms. Banning," Irina told the pretty blonde seated across from her. "Is to seduce Michael Vaughn."

"Really?" Brooke asked, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag. "Okay. I've certainly done a lot worse."

"Yes, I know," Irina said, gazing at the girl disdainfully. She had never met someone with so little respect for herself and her body. She would have found it repulsive, if she didn't find it so useful.

"How soon do you want me to do it?" Brooke asked, dragging on her cigarette. Irina smiled. At least Brooke was in better shape than she had been when they had found her five years ago. Her rehabilitation and training had been a trying experience for everyone involved, but such things had proved to be well worth the time and effort. She had proved to be a valuable asset to the organization on more than one occasion.

"As soon as possible, but you must tread carefully, and you can't be too eager, Brooke," Irina advised. "Not only is Michael desperately in love with my daughter, but he's ruled by a rather strict set of morals and principles."

"Yeah, I get that," Brooke said with a frown. "Which is why-- no offense-- I don't quite get why he's working for you."

Irina allowed a slight smile to tug at her lips. Sometimes Brooke spoke more freely than Irina would have preferred, but she couldn't pretend she didn't find such an attitude refreshing at times. "As I said, he's quite in love with my daughter, Brooke."

"Love." Brooke spit out the word as if it tasted bad. "I don't buy it, Irina. I know he was kicked out of the CIA and all, but it's not like coming to work for you was just a career change. No man completely puts aside everything he believes in just so he can have someone to keep his bed warm at night. I'm sure Michael could find plenty of women to do that for him."

Irina would have been inclined to agree with her, except that something told her that there actually might be something special between Michael and her daughter. Love, maybe, if such a thing were even possible. "Believe me, Brooke," she admitted. "I've questioned his motives. Sydney's as well."

Brooke stamped out the butt of her cigarette in the ashtray on the desk. "You think they're working for someone else?"

"No," Irina rejected the idea, though it wasn't one that hadn't crossed her mind. "I think they're foolish enough to believe they can bring me down on their own. Their motives for working for me are irrelevant, however."

Brooke raised her eyebrows in a question.

"I'm quite certain I can win Sydney's trust, and by virtue, her loyalty to me," Irina continued. "And as for Michael, I'll have to settle for controlling him. That's where you come in, dear."

Brooke nodded. "You want me to sleep with him."

"Yes," Irina said with a nod. "Now, I'm assuming that after the act, our Mr. Vaughn will be positively riddled with guilt. He'll begin avoiding you like the plague. It's at that point that I'll reveal to him that I know, and I'll threaten to tell his precious Sydney. He'll be under my thumb, under my control. One false move and I'll reveal his secret."

Brooke frowned. "He might decide to tell Sydney himself, though, to clear his conscience."

Irina waved off the idea. "I'll convince him not to, convince him that he would only be doing so to make himself feel less guilty and that it would only hurt Sydney."

Brooke didn't seem convinced. "This could backfire, though," she said. "Michael could fall in love. Want to leave Sydney for me."

Irina resisted the urge to laugh. While she was confident that Brooke's pretty face could turn Michael's head, she hardly believed that he would actually feel anything but lust for such a common piece of street trash.

Of course, she didn't tell Brooke this. "Well, then," she said with a tight-lipped smile. "Sydney will learn about Michael's transgression much sooner than I originally planned, and it will be up to her to determine his fate. If she can stand seeing him around here knowing he no longer loves her, he can stay on as an employee. If she can't, he will be disposed of."

"Like a common piece of street trash," Brooke whispered, as if she had read Irina's mind. She and Irina locked eyes for a moment, and Irina winced inwardly at the harsh words she had directed at the girl in the past. Well. Everything that had been done to her had been for her own good. For both of their own good.

"Yes, well," Irina said after an uncomfortably long moment of silence. "You have your mission, Ms. Banning. Why don't you go fetch Michael and tell him we're ready to go to dinner?"

Brooke nodded, but she didn't rise from her seat.

"Is there a problem, Ms. Banning?" Irina asked sharply.

"I just--" Brooke hesitated for a moment before speaking. "Why did you send Sydney out with Sark?"

Irina offered her a cold smile. "Why, to give you and Michael time to get to know each other, of course."

Still Brooke remained in her chair, a hesitant look clouding her features.

"Don't worry, Brooke," Irina said, realizing why, exactly, the girl was interested. "I have no wish for Mr. Sark to become romantically involved with my daughter. Of course it would have been preferable for Sydney to have attached herself to someone I knew I could trust, but Mr. Vaughn will be under my control soon enough. Besides," she said, shooting Brooke a saccharine smile. "I know how much Mr. Sark means to you."

Brooke looked at her, the pain in her eyes throwing Irina a little off guard. "Yeah," she said softly. "And you've seen the way he treats me."

Irina looked away. It was true-- she would not have wished someone like Sark on her daughter. The man had quite a problem controlling his temper, though he'd only given Ms. Banning one black eye before Irina had put a stop to it. Brooke's lovely face was a valuable asset to their organization; she didn't want Sark messing it up every time he lost his cool. 

"I'd like you to get Michael and meet me in the dining room," Irina said brusquely. "And for God's sake, Brooke, smile. This is hardly the most difficult assignment I've ever given you."

Brooke finally rose from her chair, though she didn't start for the door. "I know it's not," she said, her voice low. "And of course I'll do it. I'm just having a hard time believing you'd meddle in your own daughter's relationship like this."

For just a moment, Irina felt a flash of remorse. But she'd be damned if she was going to let this little trollop know that she had gotten to her. So she simply smiled. "Then you don't know me very well at all, do you, darling? Now get out."


	14. The Dream

****

Chapter Fourteen: The Dream

She was sitting at the head of a long oak table, wearing a slinky ivory-colored dress. Rubies and diamonds hung from her ears and throat, and her hair had been swept up on top of her head. She looked beautiful. Regal. Wealthy. Unlike herself. He was at her side, looking gorgeous and elegant in a tux, and when she looked at him, he smiled and took her hand.

"I'm so proud of you, sweetheart," he said. It was only when he brought her hand to his lips that she noticed the large, square-cut diamond that rested on her ring finger right above a gold wedding band. She smiled at him, unsure how they'd gotten there, but feeling at once that all their dreams had come true. They were together, and surely they'd accomplished what they'd set out to do.

It was only when she looked to her other side that she realized that might not be the case, for it was then that she noticed her mother, positively beaming at her. "I knew this day would come, darling," she purred. "I knew that one day I'd be able to trust you with the keys to my kingdom."

"Sydney? Sydney, darling?" She looked over at Michael, but to her surprise, the voice didn't seem to be coming from him. "Wake up, sleeping beauty."

Sydney's eyes fluttered open, and she gasped as she looked up into the face of David Sark. "Where the hell am I?"

"On the plane," he said, irritation clouding his handsome features. "And the pilot's preparing for landing, so I'd suggest you fasten your seatbelt."

Sydney did as she was told, still feeling more than a little disoriented. "I think I just dreamed I was in charge of my mother's organization," she breathed.

Sark smirked. "Well, that's probably not an entirely unrealistic dream, darling," he said. "Though I don't see it happening any time soon. You must win your mummy's trust first."

Sydney took a deep breath, leaning back against her seat. How could she explain to him that she didn't want to rule her mother's organization, she wanted to shatter it to pieces? Well, that was simple. She couldn't.

"You know, your mother knows that you're willful, and she senses that your intentions for coming to her might not be pure," Sark told her. "But she's quite certain that eventually you'll realize that it's much nicer to work for her than against her."

Sydney closed her eyes, picturing herself as she'd been in the dream. Rich. Happy. No. She had to keep her eyes on the prize here. But Michael-- in the dream, hadn't he said that he was proud of her? How could he ever be proud of someone who was the epitome of everything he despised?

"So, your mother's briefed you on the mission, I presume," Sark said.

"Sure," Sydney said, barely glancing at him. "Quick smash and grab."

Sark frowned. "It's a little more involved than that, dear."

Sydney fixed a glare on him. "Of course I know that," she snapped. "Don't question my abilities."

"I don't believe I did anything of the sort," Sark said, raising his eyebrows. "A little touchy, aren't we?"

"Just never mind," Sydney muttered, folding her arms in front of her and wishing, for the millionth time, that it was Michael who sat beside her.

Of course Sark didn't realize that . Of course he wasn't about to let them spend the remainder of their flight in silence. "So," he said, a cool smile playing about his lips. "My Brooke took quite a liking to your Michael at your mother's little party."

Sydney closed her eyes again, willing herself not to get upset. After all, Michael had been at her side in the dream. That had to count for something. "Is that supposed to worry me?" she asked Sark coolly.

"Oh, I thought it might," he said with a shrug. "If you value your relationship with Michael, it should. Brooke always gets what she wants."

"It's pretty clear how much you value your relationship with Brooke, if you can discuss this so casually," Sydney shot back.

Sark let out a short, mirthless laugh. "I don't know who led you to believe I'm in love with Brooke," he said. "I fuck her when I want. A lot of men have the pleasure."

"She sounds lovely," Sydney said dryly.

Sark only smiled. "You've seen her," he said. "Not that she compares to you, of course."

Sydney frowned. "Haven't we landed yet?" she snarled. "I want to get this mission the hell over with."

"So you can get home and baby-sit your little boyfriend?" Sark smirked. "Let me give you a tip, Sydney. A man doesn't like to be kept on such a short leash."

"Thanks for the advice," Sydney snapped. "When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it."

"Very well, princess." God, was the smirk on Sark's face permanent, or what? "But don't come crying to me when Brooke lures your Michael into bed. Or on second thought--" He let his hand graze over her thigh; she quickly pushed it away. "You can cry to me if you want to."

It was all Sydney could do to keep from vomiting. Instead she just sat there, hoping against hope that Michael would do as she asked, and be good until she got back to him again. 


	15. Paranoia

****

Chapter Fifteen: Paranoia

Michael Vaughn had never considered himself a paranoid man, but then again, he'd never had any reason to be. He'd worked for the CIA. Not only had he known who the bad guys were, he'd had the resources to tap their phone lines, bug their houses, and, if necessary, shoot to kill. Things were no longer so easy. He slept right down the hall from his greatest enemy of all, and not only did he have to smile to her face, he had no idea what she had in store for him. She, or anyone else, for that matter.

So, on the night he sat down to dinner with Irina and Brooke, he was feeling paranoid. The warm way Brooke had greeted Irina had thrown him. Sent his mind spinning. Who exactly was she? What was her role in the organization? Had her meeting with him really just been a coincidence?

And, suddenly, he'd begun to understand Sydney's jealousy. The circumstances they were living under weren't good for either of their moods.

"Well, that was lovely," Irina said, once they had eaten. "More wine, Michael?"

"Actually, Irina," he said, shifting in his seat. "I was kind of hoping we could take a minute to discuss Sydney. Privately."

"Michael," Irina said with a disapproving frown, glancing at Brooke. "We have a guest."

"I'm sorry, Brooke," Michael said, as apologetically as he could manage. "I'm just concerned about her, Irina. We haven't spent a night apart since we've been here, you know."

"Yes, I know." Why did the idea put a look on her face like she had just bitten into a lemon? "Well, fine, Michael. Why don't you just show Ms. Banning out, and meet me in my office?"

Michael pasted a smile on his face. "Of course." He reluctantly rose to follow Brooke to the door.

"So," Brooke said, pausing in the front hallway. "Quite a night, huh?"

"I'll say," Michael said with a nod.

Brooke smiled, leaning against the doorjamb. "You miss Sydney, huh?"

"So much." He hadn't even known how true the words were until he said them out loud.

Another smile from Brooke. "How long have you been together?"

"Just a few months," Michael said, a soft smile spreading over his face. "We knew each other for awhile before we started dating, though. The circumstances we were in just kept us from being together."

"How romantic." Still that soft, seductive smile. She was beautiful. Too bad Michael was fairly sure she was also evil.

"So what exactly do you do for Irina?" Michael figured that maybe he could at least put one of his paranoid curiosities about her to rest.

"Whatever she asks me to." Still smiling. Always smiling. "I'm sure you wouldn't find it very interesting."

"Maybe I would," he said. Her smile was infectious; he felt one spreading over his own face.

"Then let's talk about it," she suggested. "I'm not really ready to go home. Why don't we get a drink?"

"Nah." Michael was proud of himself-- he didn't even hesitate. "I mean, thanks, but I have to talk to Irina, and then I'm going to go to bed."

"Alone?"

His eyes widened, and her smile gave way to an odd, stricken expression, as if she knew she'd gone too far. But she didn't just seem embarrassed, as Michael might have expected. She seemed panicked. Like she'd just done something horrible.

And Michael's paranoia returned, and he remembered that it was Irina who had suggested he walk Brooke to the door.

"Look, I'd better go," Brooke said, a blush rising to her tanned cheeks.

"Yeah," Michael said, his voice flat. "Good night, Brooke."

"Good night."

The door closed behind him, and Michael closed his eyes, an anger he couldn't quite place sweeping over him. He wanted to burst into Irina's office. Demand to know why she'd sent Syd out with Sark and what her plans for the two of them were.

But he couldn't do that. He had to knock on Irina's door, wait for her to ask him to come in, and speak to her in a civil tone of voice. "I don't think we need to talk after all, Irina," he told her. Right now, he didn't think civility was something he could quite handle. Better keep conversation with her to a bare minimum. "I'm just so worried about Sydney."

Irina smirked. "She can take care of herself, Michael. You know that."

"Yes," he allowed. "But I have to admit that I don't exactly trust Sark yet."

"Trust is a tricky thing."

Where had he heard those words before? Of course. Weiss, right before Taipei. Had that been the last time they'd spoken? No. They'd had that horrific conversation on the phone. The one where Michael had told him to go to hell.

But Irina wasn't going to leave it there. "For instance, my daughter trusts you very much right now. It probably took you awhile to earn that trust. But I'll bet it would take no time at all to break it."

Michael's eyes flashed. "I would never do anything to betray Sydney's trust."

"No," Irina said, voice dripping with sarcasm. "You'd just have her give up her whole life for you."

"We've been over this." It was all Michael could do to keep from shouting. "Sydney and I have been over this. We've both made our choices. We don't blame each other for them."

"Sure, you don't now," Irina said with a shrug. "You won't until you look back and see all that you've missed because of each other."

"What, exactly, have we missed?" Okay, that was it. He was shouting.

"Other opportunities," Irina said, a smile flickering across her face. "Other lovers."

"I don't want anyone but her!" Yep. Still shouting.

"So you say," Irina said. Still smiling, but her smile wasn't warm like Brooke's had been. It was cold. Mirthless. "I believe we're done here, Michael."

"Fine," Michael said, throwing the door open. "I'm going to bed."

"Alone?"

Michael froze. So maybe his paranoia had been valid, after all. He turned back to Irina, eyes flashing. "You bitch."

She didn't react to his remark except to laugh.

Michael had never heard an uglier sound.


	16. Celebration

****

Chapter Sweet Sixteen: Celebration

He was waiting for her when she returned from her mission, just as she'd known he would be. She'd called him as soon as the plane landed to let him know she was on her way, and he'd promised to be waiting for her outside when she returned.

"I can't wait to see you, Syd," he'd said on the phone, a sound that had caused a goofy grin to spread across her face. 

"I've missed you so much, Michael," she'd responded, clutching the phone as tightly as if it were him.

"I've missed you too, baby," he'd replied, and her grin had widened, though she wouldn't have thought such a thing was possible. "Let's not let your mother send you out without me again, okay?"

"Deal," she'd said happily. "I've got to go, Michael, okay? I love you."

"Get back to me as soon as you can. I love you, Syd."

Now the car were pulling up to her mother's headquarters, and she could see him, leaning against the front door with a lazy grin spread across his face. God, he was gorgeous. God, she loved him. She jumped out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop-- this earned her an irritated cry from Sark, but she didn't hear it-- and went running toward him, barely feeling her feet touching the payment. He started toward her at the exact same moment, and when they met, he took her in his arms and lifted her, spinning her around in a circle.

"God, I've missed you," she breathed, taking his lips with hers.

"I've missed you, too," he managed between kisses. "How was the mission? Are you okay? You must be exhausted."

"Oh, I am, darling," she assured him, planting a kiss on his neck, "I insist that you take me straight to bed."

"God, get a room, you two," Sark said, pushing past them on his way up the front stairs. The driver followed, his and Sydney's suitcases in hand. "But I'd either make your tryst quick or save it for later, Sydney dear. Your mother's going to want to hear about the mission."

"You can tell her that things went smoothly as well as I can," Sydney replied, barely taking her eyes from Michael. "Tell her that I'll be in my room and that I don't wish to be disturbed until tomorrow afternoon."

"Oooh, Syd," Michael whispered in her ear. "You're going to wear me out."

She let out a peal of laughter, causing Sark to shake his head with a scowl.

"I'll tell her," he said. "But for future reference, I'm not your errand boy."

"When I'm in charge of this organization, you'll be a lot less than that," Sydney muttered. The thought surprised her. Since when had she actually intended to take charge of her mother's organization? She must have been feeling jet-lagged. That had to be it.

"Take me to bed, Michael," she breathed.

"Whatever the lady wants." His words sent shivers down her spine. He was so good to her. She loved him so much.

Now he took her hand and led her through Irina's headquarters to the wing that held their bedroom. When they were finally alone, with the door locked-- screw Irina's rules, this time-- she turned to him and began kissing him with such intensity that it must have surprised him. He recovered from the shock quickly, his hands lifting her shirt over her head as his lips found hers over and over. She pulled at his white button down shirt so fiercely it was a wonder she didn't rip it; it didn't take long to remove it completely. There was still the matter of his undershirt to contend with; that was disposed of just as quickly.

"God, you're beautiful," he whispered, lips moving down to her neck as he fumbled with the clasp of her bra.

She smiled, turning them so that she was facing the bed. She pushed him roughly onto his back and let herself fall on top of him, working her lips down his neck. "I've missed you."

"I can tell," he murmured, and they both laughed. They had never been like this before-- so frantic, urgent. Usually they moved slowly, worshipping every inch of each other's skin until they could hardly stand it. Now all she wanted was him inside of her, filling her. Showing her how much he'd missed her.

He didn't disappoint, but then, he'd rarely disappointed her in any situation, and never in the bedroom. He always could tell exactly what she wanted, and he was only too happy to oblige.

Michael Vaughn was a wonderful man. An even better lover.

"And you thought I'd be the one to wear you out," she gasped after they'd finished, lying back on the bed.

"Well, tomorrow afternoon, Syd?" She didn't look at him, but she could hear the laughter in his voice as he turned to plant a kiss on her neck. "It's only four o'clock today."

"So I want some time alone with my man," she said, turning to face him. "Is that so wrong?"

"Of course not," he said, placing a gentle kiss on her lips. "We did have to spend a whole night apart, after all."

"Michael Vaughn, are you mocking me?" Her tone was demanding, but she couldn't keep the smile from her face.

"Absolutely not." He rested a hand on her thigh, and she shivered. She was glad he didn't know what his touch did to her. If he did, she would be completely under his power. Except she was fairly sure that she did the same thing to him. And she was quite certain she wouldn't mind playing the part of Michael Vaughn's love slave. "I was lonely all by myself in this big bed."

She smiled. "So you were good when I was gone?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that."

For a split second, Sydney felt her blood run cold. "What do you mean?"

"I called your mother a bitch to her face."

Sydney let out a relieved peal of laughter. "Michael, you didn't."

"I did."

Sydney giggled. "Oh, Michael, you were a bad boy," she teased. "Why would you say such a nasty thing to my sainted mother?"

Michael grimaced. "I'm not sure," he said. "But I think she may have asked our friend Brooke Banning to seduce me."

"Your friend Brooke Banning," Sydney corrected with a scowl. "I knew she was trash from the minute I laid eyes on her."

"Oh, you did not." Michael rolled his eyes. "You just didn't like her flirting with your man."

Sydney glared at him. "Oh, and I suppose you'd love it if a handsome young thing started putting the moves on me."

"Of course I wouldn't," Michael said impatiently. "That's not the point."

"Oh, what is the point, Michael?" Sydney demanded. "I'd love it if you'd explain it to me."

"The point," Michael said, with a calmness that drove Sydney absolutely mad. "Is that whether or not Brooke is trash, she is very much under your mother's thumb, and I believe she would have seduced me if I'd let her."

"You're sure?" Sydney didn't want to believe that her mother was capable of meddling in her life like that, but deep down she knew better. Well, not even that deep down.

"No, I'm not sure," Michael admitted. "I could have been being paranoid."

Sydney sighed, jumping up from the bed and throwing Michael's discarded dress shirt over her naked body. "Or you could be right, and that's exactly something my mother would do," she sighed, buttoning the shirt up.

"You missed a couple of buttons," Michael pointed out.

Sydney smiled, a little sheepishly. "Actually, I think I tore them off before."

"Nice," Michael said with a grin.

The smile froze on Sydney's face as she thought of her mother, actually asking another woman to seduce Michael. "I can't believe my mother," she fumed. "She knows how much I love you, and yet she'd have you sleep with someone else just so she'd have something to use against you."

"But it didn't work," Michael pointed out. "That's the important thing."

"Yeah, I just wonder what she has in store for us next," Sydney said, running a hand back through her hair.

"I won't pretend I'm not a little paranoid about it myself," Michael confessed. "But Syd, I've thought about it a lot, and she can't hurt us. We're stronger than that."

"She obviously doesn't think so," Sydney said, beginning to pace.

"But we are." Now Michael was out of bed too, locating his boxer shorts and pulling them on. He moved to the dresser and began rummaging through a drawer. "And I think I know a way to show her that."

Sydney wasn't sure what she'd expected him to pull out of that drawer, but it wasn't a little black box containing a square cut diamond not unlike the one she'd worn in her dream.

"Sydney, will you marry me?"

Sydney stared at the ring. There were a million reasons she should say no, a million reasons this would never work.

But there was a bigger reason she should say yes, and he was standing right in front of her. "Of course, Michael."

He slipped the ring on her finger and drew her into the longest, most passionate kiss she'd ever experienced.

She'd known there had been a reason she'd said she didn't want to be disturbed till the next afternoon. She had some serious celebrating to do.


	17. The Rules Change

****

Chapter Seventeen: The Rules Change

Irina sat at the head of the dining room table, waiting patiently for her daughter and Michael to come down to breakfast. Sydney would undoubtedly be upset that Irina had requested her presence before the afternoon, but the girl had to learn that she was not in a position to give such orders. She had let Sydney and Michael enjoy the night together. Now it was time to get down to business.

They entered the room together now, Sydney dressed in a black sleeveless mock turtleneck, a short black skirt, and tall black boots, Michael more casual in a black button-down and dark blue jeans.

"Good morning, Mother," Sydney said, dropping a kiss on her mother's cheek before taking the seat adjacent to Irina. Irina smiled approvingly. Of course Sydney wouldn't throw a fit about being summoned earlier than she'd requested. She knew her place better than that.

"Irina," Michael said, taking a seat across from Sydney. Irina and the young man hadn't spoken since he'd called her a bitch and stormed out of her office. She wished he'd learn to control his temper.

"Good morning, Sydney, Michael," Irina said, nodding at the two of them. "I trust you slept well."

"Absolutely." The furtive smile Sydney shot Michael told Irina that they hadn't gotten much sleep at all.

"Good," Irina said with a nod. "I wanted to confirm that the mission went well, then the two of you are free for the remainder of the day. I'm not hungry myself, but would the two of you like something to eat?" She watched as her daughter and Michael held a silent conference with their eyes before Sydney spoke for the two of them.

"I think we'll go out for breakfast after we've finished here," she said. "We have some shopping to do, and a few other things to take care of."

"Really?" Something felt wrong to Irina. The two of them were definitely hiding something from her. "Like what?"

Sydney looked at Michael, asking him a question with her eyes. Michael nodded in response. Irina fought the urge to roll her eyes. What, the two of them were communicating telepathically now?

"Well, Mother, we wanted you to be the first to know." Irina's eyes widened as Sydney lifted her left hand to reveal a glittering diamond. "Michael and I are engaged."

"Well." Irina wasn't sure why this surprised her. Yes, she had seen Michael's eye begin to wander, but she had sensed that Sydney had a firm claim on his heart. "I suppose congratulations are in order."

Sydney's face broke into a relieved smile, and once again Irina fought the urge to roll her eyes. If Sydney had really expected her to fly off he handle about this, she didn't know her very well at all. So this changed the rules of the game a little. Irina could still play.

"Things to take care of," she mused, glancing from Sydney to Michael and back again. Their eyes betrayed an odd combination of excitement and fear. Not so different from any soon to be married couple, she supposed. "You don't mean you intend to get married today, do you?"

"Not today." Sydney reached across the table to take Michael's hands, a happy grin lighting up her face. "We need to see about a marriage license, and we need to buy wedding bands, and a dress for me."

"Yes," Irina said with a smile. "Well, if you're going to do this, I insist you do it right."

Sydney was shaking her head before the words were even out of Irina's mouth. "No," she said vehemently. "We don't want some huge affair that takes months to plan. We want to do this soon."

"Well, that's all fine and good, darling," Irina said. "But that doesn't mean you can't celebrate a little, either. I would love to throw you an engagement party."

Another silent conversation between Sydney and Michael. "That would be very nice, Mother," Sydney said after a moment.

Irina smiled at the two of them. "And I'd love to send you somewhere fabulous to have your wedding. Wherever you like, of course. Somewhere you could have a nice honeymoon."

Sydney looked at Michael again, but this time Irina didn't give them a chance to converse silently. "What do you think?" she asked. "Today's Monday, we could have the party Friday and you could leave Saturday."

Sydney's eyes widened. "That sounds-- well--"

"Oh, you don't have to decide right now," Irina assured her, rising from her seat. Michael and Sydney followed her lead, Sydney moving to the other side of the table to stand beside Michael. "Why don't the two of you do your shopping and think about where you might like to go? And you don't have to do it next weekend, if you like. Whenever you want."

"Oh, we want to do this as soon as possible," Sydney told her. "You've just given us a lot to think about."

Irina smiled. "Well, do tell me as soon as you've decided, so I can make arrangements. And of course you'll charge whatever you buy today to my account. Spare no expense."

"That's very generous of you, Mother." Irina smiled at the way her daughter's eyes were shining. "Thank you."

"Well. How often does my only daughter get married?" She leaned over to kiss her daughter's cheek, lifting the girl's hand. "What a beautiful engagement ring."

"Isn't it, though?" Sydney purred, wrapping an arm around Michael's waist and resting her head on his shoulder. "He spoils me."

Irina watched as a blush rose to Michael's cheeks. They really were quite adorable together, if you were affected by that kind of thing.

"Well, I'll leave the two of you alone. Once again, congratulations." A smile played about Irina's lips as she strode out of the room, sure that the two of them were staring after her, bewildered. Just the way she liked them.


	18. Game Over

****

Chapter Eighteen: Game Over

Irina glanced at her watch, a contented smile spreading over her face. Any minute now, the minister ought to be pronouncing that her daughter and Michael were now Mr. and Mrs. Michael Vaughn. She had asked Sydney to call when the ceremony was completed, but God knew how those things went. Newlyweds in a tropical paradise. They wouldn't have to have much imagination at all to find something to distract them from calling the bride's mother.

The engagement party had been lovely. Sydney had worn a fabulous little black dress, and Michael had been dashing in a perfectly cut tuxedo. Everyone who was anyone in Irina's organization had toasted the happy couple, and then they had danced until it was time for Sydney and Michael to leave for the airport. Both of them had hugged Irina and thanked her for the party, but there had been a fear in their eyes that Irina had found hilarious. Both of them had looked at her that way the entire week-- like they were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Well, they were fools, both of them, if they thought Irina had any interest in stopping their little wedding. Oh, she hadn't loved the idea of their marriage at first, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that things couldn't have worked out any better if she'd planned them herself.

Yes, she'd been foolish, too. She'd thought luring Michael into bed with Brooke would be a good way to control him? Please. If you wanted to control a man, you didn't give him one night of pleasure with a beautiful woman and threaten to tell his girlfriend about it. No, if you wanted to control a man, you simply stayed out of it.

You stayed out of it and you watched as he became engaged to the woman he loved. You wished him and his bride-to-be well. Threw the happy couple a party and gave them enough money for the wedding and honeymoon of their dreams.

Later, you'll suggest they move out of your headquarters. Tell them you've found them a beautiful house with a white picket fence. You'll watch as they pack their belongings and buy furniture and move into their new home. Always with the fear in their eyes. Always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

What the happy couple didn't know was, it already had. Because you've given them something they've craved more than anything else in the world. Not each other's love-- no, they already had that. You've given them hope. Hope for a happy home with children and a dog and family dinners every night at seven.

Normalcy. Domesticity. Things you've known your daughter so desperately wanted since the day you saw the light in her eyes when she told you how she'd done Michael's shopping and made Michael's dinner and Michael Michael Michael. That was what Sydney had wanted. What Sydney had never dreamed her mother could deliver to her.

And when her mother did deliver, that was when she had control. Because Sydney had something to lose now. Something more than her soul, more than Michael's. She had a family and a husband and the life she'd always dreamed of.

And that was when the game ended. Turn the scoreboard off. Fans, go home to your happy lives. You don't want to play with Irina Derevko.

She's already won.

****

Game Over


End file.
